


Grey Pilgrim, White Rider

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six drabbles centring on Gandalf, written for the "Hairdressing" challenge prompts at LiveJournal's tolkien_weekly drabble community. (And yes, I did interpret the prompts somewhat laterally...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Isildur's Bane Shall Waken

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

All day, beneath pale sunlight falling from the library's high windows, he combs through history, pares away the past. Parmandil the archivist staggers under piles of scrolls, brings box after box of parchments. Until, as hope fades along with the light, a tattered fragment – the script late Second Age, or early Third – no seal; but the signature...  
  
 _"It is precious to me, though I buy it with great pain..."_ The wizard shakes his head slowly, sadly.  
  
No time even to see how Faramir fares, now. _Our darkest fear is proven true, and with all speed I must to the North._  
  
~~~  


For the tolkien_weekly "Comb" challenge.

Parmandil, the archivist of Minas Tirith - his name means 'devoted to books' - first appeared in my story [_After Such Knowledge_](http://astele.co.uk/stories/chapter.cfm?stid=1522), of which this drabble is basically a snapshot.


	2. His Greatest Mistake

Hemmed in by Orthanc's black parapet and the thousand-foot drop, he paces, or hunches brooding as smoke curls away into the moonlight; _well for me that Saruman believes the weed befuddles rather than clears the mind, and leaves me my pipe.  Fool have I been –  nearly the fool he thinks me!_  
  
He shakes his head irritably.  _Ever since the Council last met I knew he mistrusted my judgement, even Elrond's, and Galadriel's –  but I never mistrusted_ him! _And now, when Frodo most needs me..._ But he dare not bend his thought upon the Shire. _Radagast, my old friend... be true!_  
  
~~~

For the tolkien_weekly "Curl" challenge.

Gandalf says at the Council of Elrond, of his decision to go straight to Saruman rather than warning Frodo after he meets Radagast at the end of June 3018 on the Shire-borders and hears that the Nazgul are abroad: "Never did I make a greater mistake!"


	3. Servant of the Secret Fire

_"Fly, you fools!"_  
  
His last sight, as he feels his fingertips sliding helplessly from the chasm's edge, is of eight horrified faces staring into the abyss. _I have failed them._ The knowledge cuts deeper than the Balrog's whips of flame.  
  
And yet, even as they plummet wrestling together into endless dark, as he smells hair and beard scorching and his nerve-endings sing with heat and pain, that thought kindles an answering flicker of anger within him which burns up into a fire of rage:  
  
 _No;  I have not failed them yet!_ Olórin summons all his power, and lifts his sword...

~~~

For the tolkien_weekly "Cut" challenge.


	4. Seven Stars and Seven Stones and One White Tree

Varda's Sickle blazes white in the midnight sky as Gandalf and Pippin fly southwards.   
  
_Seven stars above, as seven beacons burn below…_ The wizard's thoughts race along with Shadowfax. _The Steward sends for succour – knowing not his King will answer!  In what condition will we find Minas Tirith? Does Denethor already grieve his son-and-heir? And how fares Faramir?_  
  
Among so many troubles, one nudges the corner of his mind. As he probed Pippin's mind for the palantír, behind the burning trace of Sauron's seeking, something… _someone_ else, watching. _How ran that rhyme? 'Tall ships and tall kings, three times three…'_  
  
~~~  


For the tolkien_weekly "Condition" challenge.

_Varda's Sickle_ : the seven stars of the Plough or Big Dipper, in M-E placed in the sky by Elbereth to mark the defeat of Morgoth.  
  
I may be bending canon a bit with the suggestion that Gandalf might be able to sense, when he probed Pippin's mind after Pippin had looked into the palantir of Orthanc, something of Denethor watching through the palantir of Anor. The bit about the palantiri in _Unfinished Tales_ says, on the one hand, that 'the Stones each called to each' but then adds later that '[Only] the surveyor using the Master Stone of Osgiliath could "eavesdrop." I don't think I'm suggesting that Gandalf could have communicated with Denethor directly, then, even 'via' Sauron; but that perhaps inadvertently Sauron had also left some shadow of Denethor's watching in Pippin's mind... 


	5. When the Black Breath Blows

By the bedside Pippin, unseeing, fretfully plaits and unplaits his fingers; Merry tosses uneasily, muttering under his breath, as Gandalf stands over them both.  
  
 _What a day's work is this, Sauron! Thou hast twisted and broken a good man, and brought him to despair and fiery death. And through his madness and thy evil how many more are laid low? Faramir sweating in fever, Éowyn and Merry beneath the Shadow; Théoden King and countless thousands slain…_  
  
The wizard sighs. _Enough._ He pats Pippin on the shoulder. "I'll return; I must speak with the lord Imrahil. And here... we need Aragorn."

~~~

For the tolkien_weekly "Plait" challenge.


	6. The Flame That Is Within

He begins to feel it before they pass through the rain-curtain; tingling at his fingers' ends, joints cracking, knots straining to undo themselves. Elrond and Galadriel exchange glances. Yet for the sake of the Hobbits' Mortal eyes, he holds the power in check, even when he sets foot on Valinor's shore and feels it crackling through him.  
  
At last, high in the hills above Valmar, he is alone; he closes his eyes... and lets go. Feels flesh and bone and sinew falling away, finally parting mortal frame from immortal spirit, an instant of regret –    
  
He is free.   
  
_Welcome home, Olórin._  
  
~~~

For the tolkien_weekly "Parting" challenge.

"...only those that knew him well glimpsed the flame that was within" ( _Unfinished Tales_ , The Istari)


End file.
